


Only in Dreams

by divingbelle



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-27 16:05:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8407960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/divingbelle/pseuds/divingbelle
Summary: Jack's dreams have been getting the better of him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fluffly little drabble that popped into my head while i was avoiding adulting for a while. Not quite PWP, but pretty darn close.
> 
> Totally unedited and unbeta'd, so let me know if there are any issues and I'll fix them!

Even though she had been gone for almost a year now, she still haunted his dreams. Sometimes he would see her, lips swollen and cheeks flushed as he moved over her, imagined cries of pleasure echoing in his ears. He could almost feel her touching him in ways he hadn’t been touched in years, far far longer than his actual divorce. On those mornings he would wake strung tighter than a bow, throwing himself in to some punishing exercise to dissipate his nervous energy and quiet his wandering mind. He was slightly ashamed to be sure, but he was only human, after all, and couldn’t help but to find some kind of refuge in fantasy.

It was the other dreams that threatened to break him. Sometimes they were just fragments and images: a set of women’s nightclothes folded over a chair next to his, or his razor on the sink at Wardlow. Sometimes they were the fleeting feelings of bliss as she lay in his arms, sated and boneless, or smiling at him with unabashed affection. One night, after he had broken down and had dinner in her home with Mr. Butler, she had kissed him softly and whispered that she loved him. On these nights he would wake feeling empty and raw, a hollow shell whose very self had been thrown across the Pacific Ocean. He pitied the officers of City South on those days; he was sullen and short, and even Hugh with his kind nature and almost infinite patience could only do so much.

He had long ago resigned himself to a life without physical intimacy, and while he of course missed it, he found it didn’t impact him too badly. But if this year taught him anything, it was just how much he had come to rely on Miss Fisher for intellectual and emotional intimacy. He should have known better, really, remembering the maudlin mess he was the time he had tried to cut her out of his life. But now, unlike then, there was nothing he could do. The Commissioner had made it clear that following her to London would mean sacrificing his career, and for Jack that was simply too much. His work had helped him recover from the war, recover from his divorce, and gave him a purpose. That was too much to ask, even for Phryne Fisher.

She had understood better than anyone the dangers of sacrificing who you were for the sake of someone else, and had not once faulted him for not being able to follow her. But her family’s finances were far worse than even she had imagined, and she eventually resigned herself to remaining in England indefinitely. Shortly thereafter, her letters had slowed to a trickle, before finally stopping altogether.

Sitting in his chair, whisky and Zane Grey novel in hand, Jack could already tell it would be one of those nights. He had just solved a case – one she would have loved – and it felt wrong not to be in her parlor sharing a nightcap. He spent several hours staring at the same pages before giving up and hoping for a dreamless sleep.

Even though she had not once set foot in his small bungalow, they had never shared a bed, her presence was painfully real. Her hair tickled his nose, and he could feel the warm pressure of her body holding him tight as she slept. Even in dreams she was restless, tossing and turning until she had buried herself in his shoulder and sighed his name contentedly. Knowing he would hate himself in the morning, he gave in to the dream, running his fingers through her silken hair and gently kissing her temple as her warm breath pulsed against his neck.

A sudden movement jolted him awake, but even as he regained consciousness, the feeling of a warm body pressed against his remained. The smell of French perfume permeated the room, and his heart pounded with the memory of countless nights and glasses of whisky. He opened his eyes, not sure if it was to dispel or confirm the remnants of his dream, only to see a perfectly manicured hand strewn across his chest. His heart pounded as he slowly turned his head. There she lay, black hair (slightly longer than he remembered) strewn across the pillow and pale skin almost translucent in the moonlight.

All he could do was stare, increasingly questioning his own sanity, until he saw her brow furrow as she trembled called out his name in her slumber. He raised his hand to her face, caressing her cheek, whispering reassuring words into her ear until she stilled. This is only a dream, he reminded himself, but he held her as close as he could until she disappeared with the moonlight.

He woke early, arm asleep and body strangely overheated. He remembered the feeling of having Phryne curled up against him, calling to him in her sleep, fixing the sound in his head for as long as he could until movement on the sheets next to him sent alarm bells ringing in his head. There she lay, face serene and free of makeup, with one arm and leg strewn over him. Jack shot up in is bed, not sure if he was dreaming or hallucinating. The sudden movement caused her to stir, and she blinked several times, stretching languidly as she woke. She turned towards him, propping herself up on one elbow

“Hello, Jack.”

Jack could only stare, mouth agape. He reached out, running his fingers along her arm in validation. She gave him an exasperated smile.

“Yes, Jack. I’m really here.”

Emotions flew through his head. Relief. Anger. Joy. Fear. Lust. They all battled for supremacy in his head while she watched with a bemused smirk.

“How did you… what are you doing here?”

Phryne pouted. “I was hoping for a “I’ve missed you” or “good to see you again, Miss Fisher”, but I guess it’s only fair. I arrived late last night, and coming here seemed more pressing than going home.” She smirked. “You really should get a more secure lock. I was able to get in in a matter of seconds!”

Jack’s expression softened, but the question still remained in his eyes.

“Phryne, I haven’t heard anything in months. You could have told me you were coming home!” She shrugged.

“I didn’t even know I would be able to until only a few weeks ago, and even then I was scared to get my own hopes up.” She looked slightly ashamed. “I don’t know if my family’s financial issues have been resolved, but I couldn’t stay there anymore. I had to choose between my family and my own happiness. Given that you still appeared in my dreams, there wasn’t much of a decision to make.” Jack’s face remained impassive as he absorbed everything she was saying. Phryne fidgeted nervously under the scrutiny as the implications of her actions finally caught up with her. “I… I’m sorry to presume, Jack. If you want me to go I-”

Jack’s lips had met hers, gently but insistently stilling her words before breaking free, the feeling that this was still some kind of dream rendering him bolder than he otherwise would have been. “I’ve dreamed about this for months, Miss Fisher. There’s no way I’m letting you go now that you are here.”

“You’ve dreamed of me, Jack?”

Jack pushed Phryne onto her back and pushed up on his forearms so he lay over her. “Probably more than is healthy, Miss Fisher,” he said, punctuating each word with a kiss down her neck to her clavicle.

Phryne shuddered in pleasure under his kiss. “That’s good to hear, Inspector,” Phryne said, wrapping his legs around his hips, “because I’ve had quite a few of my own”

Neither of them spoke for a while after that.


End file.
